Reading Between the Lines
by AEROrevolution
Summary: One-shots centered around various sentences or phrases Ziva David says throughout the show. Trying to show more insight into her daily life, her past life, and everything we don't get to see.  TIVA related
1. Chapter 1

**Title : **Reading Between the Lines

**Pairing : **Ziva David x Anthony DiNozzo

**Episode : **03.04 (Silver War)

**Summary : **One-shots centered around various sentences or phrases Ziva David says throughout the show. Trying to take a deeper look into her life and past, or at least putting an interesting spin on things. So, here you go.

**[ NCIS ]**

"_I always drive fast. It's the best way to avoid possible ambushes and IEDs." _

"Now, turn here. Be quick."

Whatever rubber left on the van's tires were quickly erased as they turned a sharp right down an abandoned alley, without losing speed and without losing traction. The bottled water in their laps sloshed in discontent as their bumpy path continued, through crowded streets and past decaying buildings. When you entered older parts of the city you were greeted with such sights, for better or worse. Mostly it was caused by Hammas bombings. Other times it was caused by internal conflict. The results, however, were always the same.

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel as they made their way into more open areas, eyes continuously scanning for threats near and far. "Michael, my speed has not dropped below 60 this entire time. We are fine." She bit out the words just as viciously as she yanked on the wheel for what seemed like the hundredth time today, changing direction to confuse and intimidate anyone stupid enough to follow them. They had not seen a single car on their entire journey this morning, and it was pushing them on edge.

"It is better to be safe, then sorry. Now do not complain, there is work to be done." He lit up a cigarette, much to her distaste, blowing a puff of smoke out of the window. Here they were avoiding suspicion and he was raising a well lit tip in their location. Some days she often imagined putting a cigarette out between his eyes, if nothing more then a lesson. A faint smile graced her lips as she picked up speed. "How many miles, more?"

She glanced down at the dashboard before rolling the numbers around in her head. There was no time for maps, even if they were available to them in the first place. Instead they were relying on memory and faith alone. "Thirty more miles, fifteen if we want to be direct. Which I know we do not-"

_Click._

Her foot was already slammed to the floor, exhaling as she tried to loosen her white-knuckle grip on the wheel. The fireball that rose up behind them was nearly deafening. The sharp thuds of shrapnel ripped through the back of their van in seemingly record time as they jumped forward ever so slightly. Michael had managed to somehow keep the cigarette pressed tightly between his lips, eyes wild with adrenaline. A slow smirk grew on his face. "See, Ziva? Any slower and we would have shared the same fate as this poor nicotine coated stick." With that he flung the cigarette out the cracked window.

"Do not smoke in my van or I _will _go slower next time."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title : **Reading Between the Lines

**Pairing : **Ziva David x Anthony DiNozzo

**Episode : **03.11 (Model Behavior)

**Summary : **One-shots centered around various sentences or phrases Ziva David says throughout the show. Trying to take a deeper look into her life and past, or at least putting an interesting spin on things. So, here you go.

**[ NCIS ]**

"_You are aware that I've never - performed an interrogation without inflicting some sort of pain?" _

"I will not talk to you."

He was a big man, six foot five with rough skin and a gut that could be considered a serious health problem. Throw in the mismatched black beard and beady little eyes, one might compare him to a rodent, if they were in a civil setting and could use no better word. Except an interrogation room is hardly considered a civil environment, unless of course you were the interrogator yourself. And even then, she didn't consider it to be one at all. A necessary evil, however, was much more accurate.

She circled around the bolted down table, staring at him through heavily lashed eyes, the corner of her lips ever so slightly raised in satisfaction. A game of cat and mouse, and nothing more. No personal attachments, no desire to get to know the person past the required information. Her hand found its way on his shoulder, face brushing against his stubble. She could smell the lack of deodorant from across the room, but now that she was this close to him? Keeping a straight face should win her an award, if not a medal. "Are you positive you will not speak with me?"

His silence was answer enough. She didn't bother to glance through the one-way mirror behind her. She didn't bother to call a lawyer, or make arrangements, or remove his handcuffs. Because in Mossad, things were handled differently. In Mossad, it was all about the end result. Everything in between could be blurred back to socially acceptable. So when she snapped his arm back, the sickening crunch of bone echoing around the room? It was her version of 'please' and little else.

He made no noise, but beads of sweat began to accumulate on his forehead. She gave him an hour at the most, and that was being _incredibly _generous.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title : **Reading Between the Lines

**Pairing : **Ziva David x Anthony DiNozzo

**Episode : **06.08 (Cloak)

**Summary : **One-shots centered around various sentences or phrases Ziva David says throughout the show. Trying to take a deeper look into her life and past, or at least putting an interesting spin on things. So, here you go.

**[ NCIS ]**

"_Was that a reflex?"_

"_Yes! It was. Gunshot went off. I saw YOU... " _

It was a quiet cop bar just outside of the city.

The type of bar that few people knew about and even fewer people frequented. Despite being out of the ragtag cop scene for quite some time, Tony still managed to feel just as home there as anyone still dressed in blue. Most of the people here dressed in muted browns and various earthy grays, anyways, so it wasn't that big of a deal. Not in his eyes. Ziva on the other hand...

For once, she seemed to match her surroundings. The buttoned down trench coat and tight scarf only managed to amplify that feeling, even if it seemed out of character. The last few days, though? Everything seemed out of character, so maybe being out of character was the new in character. He couldn't quite decide, so instead he settled on another beer and another round of peanuts. No matter how much he tried to let his mind wander though, it kept coming back to the same damn thing. With a soft sigh, and a heavy hand through his hair, he finally caught her gaze. "Was it a reflex because the mission went wrong?"

She put down her shot of tequila, seeing the clouds forming behind his eyes. Truth be told, they'd been there for quite some time. She just didn't want to deal with it, what it might bring. And now that the storm was on her doorstep, she wasn't quite sure what to do. He was providing her with a cop-out, an easy way out of the entire conversation. They both knew it, even if neither of them would say it out loud. "No." She wouldn't lie, but that didn't mean she had to be direct.

He took a swig of his beer, praying it would knock him out despite it only being his fifth. When his vision was still secure and his breathing still even, he continued. "Was is a reflex because fighting's in your blood?" He didn't have a whole lot to go on, and grasping at straws wasn't something he was use to.

"No." Her tone carried no anger, or sadness, or anything in between. It was as steady as her hand as she finished off her tequila. "No..." Her voice trailed as she tried to bring out the right words in English. Sometimes translation was much harder then she let on, and with alcohol in her system it was much more so. "It was a reflex because I thought you were injured. It was a reflex because...I thought I had _let_ you become injured." She turned to him again. "You are my partner. Nobody injures you, except me."

He rose his beer for a toast, and as their glasses clanked against one another, he smiled. "Nobody but you, sweet-cheeks." His eyes were already clear again.


End file.
